


Silver-Tongue Tied

by SniperMoran



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Post-Avengers (2012), self-loathing Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SniperMoran/pseuds/SniperMoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place post-Avengers. Loki has been brought back to Asgard by his brother to pay for his crimes against Midgard and Asgard alike. His punishment? Losing his ability to speak. His mouth has been sewn shut to keep his trickery and lies at bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver-Tongue Tied

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not own any of these characters.
> 
> This was written for my Loki roleplay account on twitter.
> 
> Are you sensing a theme with my roleplay accounts on twitter? They're all really very depressing. I'm very cruel to my poor characters. Am I sorry?
> 
> ....not really.

"When all is said and done, and my hand is played, my cards put down, all my moves made, will you still love me as you once did, when I was special to you? When I was yours? Or will you throw me to the side as I have done a countless many times to you...I deserve nothing else."  
\----  
"Though I feel I am speaking I am not, though it does not matter for no one could hear me anyway. No one can ever hear my voice again..."  
Loki sighed. Speaking to himself was boring and depressing. He slumped down onto the metal bench in his cell and buried his head in his hands.

The days flew past, but with no window, there was really no way to judge how much time had passed since he had been imprisoned. How long...?

How long had it been since he had tasted the fresh clean air on his lips? How long had it been since food and drink had graced his taste buds? How long had it been since the feeling of power had flowed through his small body? To these, he had no answer. But as to how long it would be before it happened again...that was a simple answer. Never. He was sentenced to a lifetime in this hell, with no one to blame, save his own stubborn and greedy self. He sighed, the sound echoing about him in the empty cell, the only sound he could make anymore.

Tired of basting in self-pity and self-loathing, Loki stood and wandered about his cell, tracing long slender fingers along the cool stone walls, just to feel something other than the cold metal of the bench. A smile tried to show, causing him only pain and bringing the taste of blood to his mouth as the feel of the stone reminded him of better days. He swallowed heavily and stared up at the enchanted ceiling. Imitation stars shone there, twinkling at him, though the scene only made him ache that much more. He missed the real stars, he missed the real sky, and no matter how well done the enchantment was, it was not the same. He lay down on the floor, despite his better judgment and watched the imitation stars wishing the tears he felt in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks were imitation, like his view.

Staring up at the imitation night sky, Loki noticed the stars moving ever so slowly, the constellations rotating. An ache in his chest caused him to sit up, looking instead down at the dirty floor, his dirty feet, anything to make the ache stop. "What's wrong with you?" he asked himself, hearing his voice though he had not actually spoken. He could think of several answers to his own generic question, though none explained his odd ache. He glanced to the door of his cell, filling himself with dread. The door that would never open. He lay back and closed his eyes, hoping for merciful sleep.

Loki's eyes fluttered open slowly, waking from his dream. It had been quite some time since he had dreamed like that, of Asgard, of his childhood and most of all, of his...of Thor. Somehow, even a monster like himself missed all those good things, all the good times.

Loki sat up from the ground and glanced over at the metal bench curiously. No one would miss him...it wouldn't be a clean death, but at least then it would be hard for them to forget him, right? No...they wouldn't notice he was dead, it was pointless. Dead or not, there was no way to escape this forever prison. And even if he did kill himself...where would that leave him? What if what waited there was even worse than the fate he was now surviving. "No...suicide is a coward's way out anyway,” he told himself mentally. And he was no coward. He would never allow himself to be called a coward. Never. Whether imprisoned or not, he, Loki Laufeyson, was a prince. A forgotten prince...

Loki opened his eyes slowly - when had he fallen asleep? - and looked around. Something was different, he felt something different, but couldn't quite place what it was. He studied everything, his mind still fuzzy from sleep - honestly, when had he fallen into sleep? - The bench was still hard and cold as ever, the cell itself was still small and cold. The ceiling sky illusion was still not as good as he could make and there was still no exit in sight. So what felt different? He frowned, pulling himself up and running his long slender fingertips along the walls of his cell carefully. "What have they done...?" he asked himself mentally.

The forgotten prince leaned against the wall of his prison cell, his only home now, in this world or any. The sun was shining outside, he was sure, but he was not allowed to see it. He was not allowed much, though his reason for being in this prison was a false sentence. He was not the one behind trying to destroy Midgard; he was merely a puppet at the hands of the Chitauri, who were themselves puppets to an even greater power. He had been at the mercy of the power of the tesseract, but no one would believe it when he said so. For he was and would always be in the eyes of others, the God of Lies, the Trickster, Silver-Tongue.  
Just this once though...he wished it would all go away. He wished that his past could be wiped clean and he could be given a new chance, a chance to prove himself to Odin, to Thor, and even to the Avengers. But he would never receive that chance. No... It was unlikely he would ever see the outside world again through his own eyes. "To be free...oh to be free...to have the freedom to renew myself and redeem myself...to be free."  
Alone. Cold. Empty. And innocent. 'What have I done to belong in this cage, in this prison?' Loki thought, leaning against the wall, eyes heavy with sleeplessness. His mind couldn't work out the problem at hand and this was not allowing him peace enough to sleep. 'What did I do to deserve treatment like this?' He asked himself, closing his eyes and bashing his head back against the wall and crying out in frustration and pain.


End file.
